ts were burning dimly in the apartment. There was a window
on each side of the door, and the farthest of these she fancied
she saw shaded by a human form from without. She stopped suddenly,
and kept her eyes riveted on the object, holding in her breath that
she might not betray her presence. Presently the shadow was removed
from the window, and lost altogether to her sight. A movement of
the light now made within was reflected on the figure of Ronayne,
who, with a candle in his hand, seemed to be approaching the door.
He was still dressed as he had thrown himself on his bed, on
entering, in the deerskin hunting-frock he had worn during the day,
and his temples were bound with a blue-bordered scarlet bandanna
handkerchief--for he had ever loathed the abomination of a nightcap
as being symbolical of the gibbet. As he came nearer to the window,
the light which he bore reflected distinctly without and upon an
Indian standing in the doorway, similarly habited, even to the very
turban.

Mrs. Headley felt that she could not be mistaken in the figure,
but if any doubt had existed, it would have been dissipated when
involuntarily calling out, and in a tone meant to imitate the
harsher voice of her husband, the name of Wau-nan-gee, the
face was wildly turned in the broad light to penetrate the darkness
which half enshrouded her from view, and the features of the boy
distinctly revealed. Surprised, but armed with strong resolution,
she made a rapid forward movement to seize and detain him, knowing
well that Ronayne, at the sound of voices, would come forth at once
to her assistance; but the Indian, without uttering a sound, stole
rapidly away towards the picketing in the distance, and was seen
no more.

As Mrs. Headley now approached the door, it was opened by Ronayne,
who apologised to her for not having sooner attended to her knock,
but declared it to be so low that he had not distinctly heard it.

"Nay," she replied, when she had entered and taken a seat, "I did
not knock, nor had I intended to knock; I have disturbed another
midnight visitor."

"Another visitor! To whom do you allude, my dear Mrs. Headley? I
must have deceived myself, or surely I heard, soon after I had
risen from my couch, the name of Wau-nan-gee."

"You did not deceive yourself," she returned, gravely; "I saw
Wau-nan-gee at the threshold of your door as plainly as I see you,
and habited in the same manner. I called to him, but he fled."

"Impossible